And it was most unfortunate that those feelings didn't exactly dissipate- we arrived and spent the next 5 hours unloading the car, unpacking plates, cleaning bathrooms and setting up beds, all in the worst possible wind and rain. Rather shamefully, this didn't stop me sending the boys out to play, because although we were one down with Anna in England, six people and a thousand boxes still makes for one very crowded caravilla. When they were offered the glittering options of 'Stay here and clean the toilet, or go out and play in the rain' thankfully, although not unexpectedly, they cleared the joint in 10 seconds flat.
So eventually, by midnight the car and trailer were emptied, the kids were finally settled, and we were climbing into our teeny tiny bed. Okay, I may be exaggerating a little bit, and I'm fully aware that I sound like a complete princess, but we've a six foot bed at home, so a small double DID feel very compact and bijou...but cosy too... in a studenty sort of way!
I also hadn't fully considered the paper thin walls- I mean I KNOW it's a caravilla, but literally we could hear EVERYTHING, which logically means that THEY could hear everything, which TOTALLY puts a dampener on getting up to ANYTHING. Catch my drift? (On this theme, ANY feedback/advice/tactics from any of you seasoned carravillagers out there is most welcome. (Speak up, you're among friends! )
Moving swiftly on, I awoke the next dark morning at 6am, to Luke battering about, less than a foot away in the next 'room' and the rain battering off the roof above me. Unsurprisingly, and fueled by exhaustion, my mild anxiety had now evolved into a full blown inner panic attack, which Loverboy clocked immediately, and I think possibly even identified with. He got up, brought me in my book, sorted the kids with cereal, and put on the coffee, thus expertly heading off a meltdown at the pass.
|Looking for crabs.|
|Wine time...and a big shell.|